


Love Drunk

by domesticadventures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Headspace, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domesticadventures/pseuds/domesticadventures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revelation: Everyone has an addiction.</p>
<p>Confession: Yours is love. It’s the drug you constantly crave; the habit you can’t afford to maintain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Drunk

Revelation: Everyone has an addiction.

Confession: Yours is love. It’s the drug you constantly crave; the habit you can’t afford to maintain.

\--

For four years, nine months, and nine days, your mother says “I love you” every night as she tucks you into bed.

Going cold turkey is harder than you could possibly have imagined.

\--

You haven’t seen or even spoken to Sam in years, and for a while you’re delusional enough to fancy yourself cured, to think you’re doing fine without him.

Then John disappears, and all it takes is a couple days alone before you talk yourself into showing up on Sam’s doorstep. That’s how far gone you are: not a word since he left, but you always made sure you had his address.

You slip right back into it, you’re high on him, giddy at his presence, smiling like you haven’t in god knows how long.

You try not to be jealous of Jessica, this hold she has on him, this monopoly she’s established in your absence. When she dies, you try not to think of it as the universe ridding you of your competition.

You get used to him being around, though, and that’s worse, because eventually you plateau and you want more, more, more than he can give, always more than anyone can give.

\--

You feel the need pulling at you constantly, the desperate desire to feel loved and cared for, to feel like you’re a part of something, some semblance of a family.

You tell yourself, don’t call. You know it isn’t going to do any good, so don’t do it. Don’t call. Don’t bother.

You wait until the urge becomes irresistible and you cave, you walk around the corner and out of sight so Sam can’t see your shame. Here’s your real giveaway: all the shit your dad has put you through, you still have him on speed dial.

All you get is his voicemail. The recording is gruff, a few terse words: _I can’t be reached, call Dean, he can help._ It practically screams _stop calling me, I don’t have anything to give you._ You leave a message anyway, because that’s how desperate you are, that you can’t even take your father’s advice and learn to help yourself.

It wouldn’t have been enough, even if he had picked up. It’s never enough.

\--

When he looks at you, that first time, and says _you don’t think you deserve to be saved,_ you don’t know how to tell him, no, it’s not that, exactly. You’ve just stopped wishing for things you know are impossible.

When he keeps coming back to you, though, time and time again, you have the audacity to think maybe there’s something more to it, maybe there’s something about you that has him hooked.

Maybe he would stay, if only you could find the words to ask.

_I need you,_ you say, you put it all on the line.

When he disappears, you hate him for it, but not as much as you hate yourself.

\--

You’re starting to suspect people die just to get out of loving you back.

Someday they’ll all be gone for good, and the withdrawal is going to kill you, sooner rather than later, you just know it. To anyone who bothers to look, it will simply appear as though you’re wasting away.

Your death will be a medical mystery.

Cardiac incident; cause unknown.

 


End file.
